“I wonder who’s he is.” A woman, walking by Birvald, said. “He looks like a fine specimen.” She continued. “But he looks like he’s been dead for seven years.” Her husband said exaggeratingly. Birvald frowned. He was.. nobody’s?? What were they talking about? He turned around and walked towards them. “Who’s do you think I am?” Then the woman quickly stepped aside. “Ah! He’s talking to me! Help me Alexandrius!” The man stood there, disappointed and disapproving. “Marthillia. He’s clearly a traveler. I was joking.” He then mumbled: “Why’d I marry such an idiot?” Then they continued on their path, leaving Birvald confused and with a lot of questions. He didn’t appreciate that. But even he realised that these people probably wouldn’t be much help anyway.

A lot.. here.. wasn’t clear to him. Why were there golden spirits standing all over this city? And why did the people of Archeon look at him like he was some sort of animal? I mean, he was kind of an animal, but not really. You know what I’m saying? He scratched his hairy neck and continued walking towards a certain smell he had never smelled before. “This is a happy smell.” He thought. “I could use a happy smell.” What he found, was what they called.. A Bakery. They selled all sorts of sweet things. So Birvald.. bought a pie. Can you imagine? A big hairy man holding a pie in a golden city? It was quite a silly view. And that’s exactly what other Archeonians thought as well. People kept staring at him.

Which is why he made his way to a local park, as quickly as possible. It’s not your typical park with trees, grass and flowers. No, this was more of a public plaza. But there were a few plants and some benches. And the people here seemed to be minding their own business. It was also much quieter here. Which is something Birvald appreciates a lot. He sat down on a bench, near some playing children, and he was just about to take a big bite of his pie when..

It was a rare occurrence for her to get some time off. Even though the royal family only consisted of a handful of people, it was a fulltime job to attend to their every need. The number of people working in the palace was absurdly high and somehow everybody still considered themselves extremely busy. Guards were walking around, keeping watch at every minute of every single day. The kitchen staff was always present, in the case the royal family got hungry or some unexpected guests arrived who were expected to be welcomed by an exuberant feast. Even the handmaidens, like Ophelia herself, were usually occupied for most of the day. Drawing baths for the Queen, fixing her dresses, helping her get dressed, doing her hair, or just being there for her to confide in every once in a while. Not that she would complain, she loved her job. However, she also loved her time off.

Today the Queen had given her, and the rest of the handmaidens, some time off to go out into the city and amuse themselves for a bit. True to their stereotypes, they’d gone shopping at first, to buy some sweets and relax in the park afterwards. Soon after her arrival in Archeon, she’d come to love the beautiful parks and gardens that were carefully placed around the city. The royal gardens especially had taken up her interest, and she had made sure to take a walk there every single day. Ophelia and her friends had found refuge on one of the benches that were scattered around the plaza and they were currently spending their time talking about the people that were walking around there. Some were familiar to them, and some gossip ensued, some were not. The eyes of the group were drawn to a lone man, carrying nothing but a pie. He looked like an outsider, which definitely seemed to catch the girls’ interest. “I bet he’s from the north,” one of the handmaidens spoke. “I suppose so, too. They all look a little rough around the edges,” said another. Ophelia eyed him for a little bit, until one of her friends addressed her. “You should go talk to him. He’s quite handsome!” she said, with a little giggle. Ophelia shook her head, turning a little red. “What? No. Why?” she protested, hesitantly. Her friend quickly replied that she, in contrary to most of the group, had no plans whatsoever to be married off by her parents yet. Her father hadn’t seemed in a hurry to find her a proper husband, after her mother had passed. Ophelia sighed and stood up. “Fine.” She swallowed her doubt and walked towards the seemingly northern man, putting a smile on her face when she approached him. “Hello there,” she greeted him. “I was wondering if I could keep you and your pie company.” In the meantime, she tried her very best to ignore her friends who were not so subtly watching her.

Hmm, he closed his eyes as he was about to take a big bite of his pie. But he hesitated. Another smell entered his nostrils. A new happy smell. He opened his eyes and discovered the source of the new smell. A lady, who looked as pretty as her dress. She spoke to him. He immediately smiled at her. Yes, he would like that very much. “I would enjoy your company.” He moved a little to the side, so she had more room to sit. He shot a quick glance at his pie and thought: “Am I supposed to share this pie now?” He wouldn’t mind. At home, it was customary to share food. Did the same rules apply here? He didn’t notice the giggling women in the distance. He growled contently and placed the pie on his lap. Then he looked at the lady. “I am Birvald.” Hm, the well mannered Archeonians’ civilities were rubbing of on him. He had used more than one word to introduce himself. Or maybe he was trying to make a good first impression.

As soon as she approached him, the sweet smell of the pie he was just about to eat hit her. Once he looked up, she greeted him with a polite small. Everything about her was so carefully polite, always afraid to offend. She couldn’t really help it, it was her only line of defence against a world full of men who could easily overpower her. She was always taught to keep her head down and do as she’s told, in the hopes of avoiding any kind of conflict. The stranger moved to the side a little and replied he’d enjoy her company. She sat down next to him, running her hands over the skirt of her dress to straighten it. She bared her teeth in another smile when he asked her if he should share his pie now. “Only if you want to,” she replied. She wasn’t a big eater anyhow, something that was apparent by her frame. He introduced himself as Birvald, a name she repeated to let her tongue get used to the feel of it. “I’m Ophelia,” she then introduced herself. “You’re not from here, are you, Birvald?” She eyed him a little curiously, hoping he’d affirm her suspicion that he was indeed from the north. Other cultures excited her, mainly because she was fully aware of the fact that she’d never get to travel anywhere else.

He looked at her for a moment. And then back at the pie. Only.. if he wanted to..? He had to think about that for a second. Sharing food.. because you want to..? He was used to share food, out of necessity, or out of respect. Wanting to.. He wondered if.. he had ever made a choice.. because he wanted to..? He figured that everything he did, was because he wanted to. He wanted to make the world a better place. Therefore he found that it was his purpose in life. It’s as simple as that. As soon as he came to that conclusion, the lady already started talking about something else. This confused him a little. He thought they were talking about pie. But even though he didn’t understand, he was not reluctant to answer. “No I am not.” He stated. “I was born in Falkreath.” He then looked back at the pie. Decisions decisions. He then picked it up from his lap and reached it out to her. “Unless you want to keep talking about where I’m from.” He said, thinking that one could only talk about one subject at a time.

Ophelia noticed his gaze going back and forth between her and the pie a few times, as if he was actually torn between sharing a piece of his pie or not. When she replied that he only should share if he wanted to, it only seemed to confuse him more. She didn’t exactly understand why, maybe he just really wanted the pie for himself. In that case, he could just keep it. After some proper introduction, she decided to ask him where he was from. His name as well as his appearance suggested he was from somewhere in Falkreath, although she wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t Valyrian, though, that much she knew. She smiled when he told her he was born in Falkreath, slightly happy at the fact that she was right. “I figured,” she replied, before he handed the pie to her. She took it from him, raising an eyebrow at the words that followed afterwards. “Well, we could do both,” she suggested. It wasn’t unheard of, eating pie and casually chatting about something simultaneously. “May I ask why you're visiting Archeon?” she then proceeded to ask, while taking a piece of the pie for herself. Most northeners didn't exactly like to spend time in the capital, for reasons she wasn't fully aware of yet.

She seemed like a calm person. Very interested in him. Then she took the pie from him and remarked that they could eat, and talk at the same time. That was a great idea. How couldn’t he have come up with that? He nodded, to let her know he thought it was a good idea. She was all smart and stuff. Smarter than he is, so it seems. It felt good to talk to someone from Archeon, who was nice and smart. Other people here hadn’t been as gentle with him as she has. This was, absolutely, highly appreciated. Which he communicated to her by smiling. He then put his hands on the bench and pushed himself back, so he could sit more comfortably. He now turned his whole upper body in Ophelia’s direction, so they could talk. “I’m not visiting.” He said. “I’m looking. Looking for people in need of assistance. People who can’t help themselves.” People live in towns and cities. To him, it was only logical to visit Archeon for that reason. “So I can help them.” He added. Very good Birvald. You’re getting much better at explaining yourself. Maybe it was because of his travels, maybe it was because he wanted to try very hard today.

Birvald seemed almost surprised that they could continue their conversation and enjoy the pie at the same time, something that struck her as slightly strange. She decided to blame it on whatever cultural differences there were between them, and raised the piece of pie she’d taken from him to her mouth, taking a small bite. As soon as she finished the bite, she raised her eyebrows in excitement. The taste was incredibly good. Her job at the palace usually took so much time away from her that she barely had time left to eat a proper meal. In most cases, she lived off of whatever was left in the kitchens from that day. He turned towards her when he answered her question, telling her that he wasn’t actually visiting. He was here for a far more noble reason, it seemed. She looked at him quietly for a second. “You just… help people for a living?” she questioned him, not entirely sure what it was he was doing here. The people in Archeon were usually planning to do the very opposite of that. They wanted to leech off of you, learn your secrets to use them against you in whatever way they could. To find someone who was actually here to help others, was a nice change of pace. “That's very admirable,” she then proceeded to comment. Her interest in the other man had suddenly grown. It wasn't usual for her to find kind people in these streets.

She liked the pie! Good! He knew a happy smell would ensure a happy face! But at the same time.. he wondered.. how were they going to divide this circle of sweetness? He had never eaten one before, let alone share one. He wasn’t mathematically inclined enough to figure this one out. But instead of being angry about it, he decided that it was a good idea to ask Ophelia. She was from Archeon, and therefore probably proficient in pie. She then called his job admirable. He shook his head in disagreement. “There’s nothing admirable in doing the right thing.” He stated. “It’s what you should do anyway.” Admirable, would be exceedingly well, in doing what is right. But for now, Birvald was not able to put that thought into words. He then took the pie with both hands and took an enormous bite. His face was now covered in whatever the pie was made of. As he chewed, he placed it back, so Ophelia could take her next bite. He wiped his face, and licked his hand. There’s no reason to spill good food. “What is your life like?” He then asked. She was nice. This conversation was nice. The pie was nice. He wanted to continue the niceness.

A humming sound left her throat as soon as she took a bite of the pie. She wanted to let him know it tasted good, which was rather difficult when her mouth was stuffed with pie. Ophelia figured a satisfied hum would suffice for now. She looked up a little confused when he claimed to help people for a living. While she found the thought very inspiring, she had no idea how anybody could make ends meet by just ‘helping people’. He shook his head when she called his work admirable. Apparently, he was a humble man, too. Birvald argued that doing good wasn’t admirable, it was simply what anybody should do. Don’t applaud a fish for swimming, and all that. “Is it always crystal clear to you what the right thing is?” she then asked, once she swallowed her piece of pie. Like him, she wanted to be a good person, do the right thing, but she wasn’t always aware of which alternative was ‘right’. She chuckled as she watched him eat his pie. He was definitely from the north. She cocked an eyebrow at him when he asked her what her life was like. Nobody usually asked her such things, so she didn’t really know what to say. “I’m a handmaiden to Queen Dacosta,” she told him. “I help her with her hair, her dresses, her guests. Everything, kind of.” She enjoyed her job, something that was clearly audible in her voice. The Queen trusted her, to some degree, and it somehow made everything feel all the more worthwile.

No doubt was seen in het nod he gave her. Yes. Yes, he always knew right from wrong. He could.. as you could say.. feel it. Plus, to him, it was just that simple. You either did things that had good consequences for people, or you did not. Surely, he hadn’t always been right. But.. he either never realised, was convinced otherwise, or just never remembered being wrong about it. It felt good to be sure about things. And he didn’t like being wrong about things. Doing things wrong made him think, more than he could act. And he liked acting much better. He looked up at the sky for a moment, wondering what his parents would think of pie. He figured that his dad would want to eat twelve of them at once, while his mother would be reluctant. Saying that it was no ‘real food’. Oh well.

A hand.. maiden? He immediately looked at his own right hand. It’s knuckles, hairy. Then she listed her tasks. “Because you use your hands for those things.” He said, proud of his clever deduction. But.. wait.. what? Queen Dacosta? He had learned that name on his travels. Many had their opinions about her. He, did not. He had a vague idea of what a Queen was, now. And he actually had no real idea of what the job actually was. Either way, Ophelia seemed to enjoy working with Dacosta, so she must be a at least somewhat of a good person, right? It was then.. he felt a craving for more pie.. what’s this? The only other times he had these kinds of cravings.. he had been actually very hungry.. But he wasn’t hungry.. he just wanted it. He tried to wait patiently.. until he could eat another bite. He was not subtle about that. Sweet boy Birvald.

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Birvald nodded. He seemed to be certain in his ability to distinguish right from wrong. She wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe him or not. Provided with superficial actions, separating right from wrong was quite clear cut. Helping people was good, theft was wrong. But once context came into play, things turned rather hazy for her. Rumour had it that her father was planning to marry her off to someone she wasn’t too fond of, and Ophelia wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to obey and do as he said, or stand up for herself and refuse. To her, neither option felt like the right thing in a way. Maybe Birvald would be able to help her out.

Ophelia told him she was a handmaiden, assuming he knew what that meant. Surely, they had handmaidens in Falkreath, right? Even northern women of status needed someone to help them get dressed and do their hair. Birvald concluded that she was called a handmaiden because she had to use her hands for all the task she’d listed. The remark made her quietly giggle. He was strange, in a likeable way. “I never gave it much thought,” she let him know, still brightly smiling. Her gaze was drawn towards Birvald again, who seemed to be incredibly focused on the pie that was still sitting on his lap. “If you want another bite, you should have it. It’s your pie, after all,” she informed him. She never ate too much, something that was apparent by her figure. She simply wasn’t hungry most of the time.

Oh thank the Gods. Apparently, it was customary with sharing.. to tell the other person when they may have a bite. That made this whole situation much easier. Even if, he’s not as strong with words. Happily, he took the pie with his hand and took another big bite. He was smiling so brightly.. He thought it was because of the pie. But maybe there was something else that was brightening his day. Or maybe.. someone. He then reached the pie to Ophelia. “Now you may have a bite.” He said gallantly. Which he didn’t do very often. At that point.. his face grew very serious. He was thinking. Thinking of a question. He wanted to ask her a question. But thinking of questions is very hard when you’re trying to improvise them. And then.. he got something! “I get angry quite easily.” He said. Hm, not much of a question. But not entirely bad either. He was sharing something personal. Good. “Do you get angry easily?” Would you look at that. He actually was asking a question now. An interesting fellow indeed. Simultaneously easy and hard to read. Very friendly, but not good at conversations.

Most people she met whom considered to be strange, were strange in a frightening way. They tended to be cold, creepy, and calculated. She got the sense that they were trying to scare her on purpose, although she never knew why. Ophelia herself couldn’t find any enjoyment in intentionally making people uncomfortable, and she was unable to see why anyone else would find such things amusing. Now, granted, it didn’t take much for her to get scared. At all. Even the man next to her, friendly as he was, would be able to give her goosebumps if he tried. Still, he didn’t seem to have any bad intentions toward her, or anyone, so she felt comfortable with him. She eyed him as he took another bite, after which the pie was offered back to her. He announced she could now have a bite. She couldn’t really help but smile once again as she took the pie from him, having a small bite of it. She was already getting quite satiated. Birvald’s expression had turned rather serious in the meantime, and for a second Ophelia was afraid something was wrong. He told her he got angry pretty easily. A characteristic she hadn’t pegged him for yet. She raised an eyebrow, wondering about the intention behind the comment. He then asked if it was the same for her. She smiled again. “No,” she answered. “I usually get scared or sad instead.” Even when she was angry, tears were likely to well up in her eyes anyway. “I think I only got angry once since I’ve been in Archeon.” An encounter she remembered pretty vividly. She hadn’t been that angry in a long, long time, and even then, she couldn’t help but cry.

She was not one be angered quickly. Hm. But.. she get’s sad? Oh no! Birvald didn’t even take notice of her ‘one time angry’ remark. His face turned sad to. And he felt himself getting actually sad. “But I don’t want you to be sad.” He said. “Please don’t be sad.” He moved towards her, the pie fell on the ground, and he gave her a big bear hug. Let’s hope doesn’t smell terrible today. Let’s see.. let me check my notes.. when did he last wash himself. Hm.. A week ago. Wonderful. Ah well, he meant well, obviously. As he hugged her, he thought of his father. He was the huggy parent of his family. Birwin and Birwyl did not usually like hugs. But Birvald did. His brothers took more after their mother. She was one of those people who was amazing at everything they did. Perfect synergy between mind, body and heart. Not that.. Birwyl and Birwin were like that.. no. But for some reason they liked being around Birmama more than they liked being around Birpapa. He was a real heart and body kind of person. He missed them. All of them.